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94 pages

English

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Famed inventor Henry "Hank" Witherspoon has gone missing, and it's up to Jack and his brilliant siblings, Ava and Matt, to find him. At Hank's ransacked lab, the siblings discover clues to the project he's been working on-a new way to generate and store electricity, inspired by the electric eels of the Amazon. The kids travel deep into the Amazon jungle, following a series of clues Hank has left. Relying on genius, cunning, and new technology, the kids overcome strange creatures, a raging river, and some very clever foes to find their friend and protect his big idea. Like volumes one and two, Lost in the Jungle features a glossary of terms and an experiment kids can do at home or at school.

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Children's

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Publié par	ABRAMS BOOKS
Date de parution	01 mai 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781683352525
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0360€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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PUBLISHER S NOTE: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE EITHER THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR S IMAGINATION OR USED FICTITIOUSLY, AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA NAMES: NYE, BILL, AUTHOR. | MONE, GREGORY, AUTHOR. | ILUZADA, NICHOLAS, ILLUSTRATOR. TITLE: LOST IN THE JUNGLE / BY BILL NYE GREGORY MONE; ILLUSTRATED BY NICHOLAS ILUZADA. DESCRIPTION: NEW YORK: AMULET BOOKS, 2018. | SERIES: JACK AND THE GENIUSES; 3 | SUMMARY: WHEN JACK AND HIS GENIUS FOSTER SIBLINGS, AVA AND MATT, DISCOVER INVENTOR HANK WITHERSPOON IS MISSING, THEY TRAVEL DEEP INTO THE AMAZON JUNGLE, OVERCOMING STRANGE CREATURES, A RAGING RIVER, AND SOME VERY CLEVER FOES TO FIND THEIR FRIEND AND PROTECT HIS BIG IDEA. IDENTIFIERS: LCCN 2017057274 | ISBN 978-1-4197-2867-9 (HARDBACK) | eISBN 978-1-68335-252-5 SUBJECTS: | CYAC: SCIENCE-FICTION. | SCIENTISTS-FICTION. | RAIN FORESTS-FICTION. | AMAZON RIVER REGION-FICTION. | GENIUS-FICTION. | ORPHANS-FICTION. | BROTHERS AND SISTERS-FICTION. | ADVENTURE AND ADVENTURERS-FICTION. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / SCIENCE TECHNOLOGY. | JUVENILE FICTION / SCIENCE FICTION. | JUVENILE FICTION / ACTION ADVENTURE / GENERAL. CLASSIFICATION: LCC PZ7.1.N94 LO 2018 | DDC [FIC]-DC23
TEXT COPYRIGHT 2018 BILL NYE JACKET AND INTERIOR ILLUSTRATIONS COPYRIGHT 2018 NICK ILUZADA BOOK DESIGN BY CHAD W. BECKERMAN
PUBLISHED IN 2018 BY AMULET BOOKS, AN IMPRINT OF ABRAMS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PORTION OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, STORED IN A RETRIEVAL SYSTEM, OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS, MECHANICAL, ELECTRONIC, PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR OTHERWISE, WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER.
AMULET BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT SPECIAL DISCOUNTS WHEN PURCHASED IN QUANTITY FOR PREMIUMS AND PROMOTIONS AS WELL AS FUNDRAISING OR EDUCATIONAL USE. SPECIAL EDITIONS CAN ALSO BE CREATED TO SPECIFICATION. FOR DETAILS, CONTACT SPECIALSALES@ABRAMSBOOKS.COM OR THE ADDRESS BELOW.
AMULET BOOKS IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF HARRY N. ABRAMS, INC.

ABRAMS The Art of Books 195 Broadway, New York, NY 10007 abramsbooks.com
TO ALL THE REAL-WORLD FOSTER CARE FAMILIES OUT THERE WHO WOULD VE DONE A WONDERFUL JOB WITH AVA, JACK, AND MATT.
1
THE MAN IN THE PURPLE MASK
The three of us spread out across the ruined lab. When we d left the night before, the space had been in perfect condition. I d even swept the floors. But now, early the next morning, the huge room was a disaster. Mechanical birds were lying shattered on the ground. The insides of the self-driving car had been ripped out. Wires spilled from the hood like electronic spaghetti. Even our robotic pizza chef, Harry, was busted. Cables hung down to his wheels. Water was spreading across the floor from a small crack in the twenty-foot-deep submarine test tank.
Across the room, Matt was leaning over a keyboard, scanning a monitor. Who could have done this? he asked.
Ava was sitting on the floor, carefully pulling a drone into her lap like it was a bird with a busted wing. And why?
Before I could offer a guess, a window exploded high above us.
Glass rained down on the self-driving car. A black cube bounced off the curved roof of the vehicle and plunked onto the floor. Then it rolled. For a second I thought it might be a grenade. I imagined grabbing the explosive and heroically tossing it high into the air before anyone was hurt. But when it stopped, I realized it was just a camera.
Matt ran over to me and pointed up. The lab was ten stories tall, and the center of the huge space was wide open, but a series of rooms extended out from the walls on platforms. They stretched from the ground floor to the ceiling like spiral stairs, and one of the rooms was puffing out clouds of vapor through a hole in a window. A thin black rope was dangling all the way from the platform to the floor. Is that the biosphere? I asked.
Yes, Matt whispered, and someone s in there.
Duh, Ava replied.
Maybe it s Hank?
A spark flashed inside the room. A man cursed and shouted.
That s not Hank, Ava said.
Our friend Hank, otherwise known as Dr. Henry Witherspoon, owns the lab. He lets us work there, too, and takes care of us. Well, sort of, anyway. We hadn t seen or heard from him in three weeks. That was a really long time for him to be gone, especially without sending us a single e-mail or even a quick text. Honestly, I would ve settled for an emoji. But Hank s an unusual guy, and he probably had a great explanation.
Oh, and there s no way he d wreck his own lab. Especially not the room we were staring up at now. The glass-walled biosphere was one of his favorite spots. About half the size of our apartment, the space was a miniature ecosystem, sealed off from the outside world and the rest of the lab. Nothing but light went in or out. The air inside cycled through about twenty different plants and miniature trees, and the water evaporated and condensed as it flowed along a miniature stream that circled the interior. A hidden pump, powered by sunlight, kept the water moving. Sure, the Do Not Enter and Caution signs were painfully tempting, but not one of us had ever been inside the room.
Not even me.
Honestly.
Except for that one time. Which is kind of how I knew so much about the inside.
Matt grabbed my shirt just above the elbow. Let s get out of here, he said, still whispering. Hank would ve told us he was back.
This wasn t quite true. Hank showed up and disappeared without warning all the time. But I didn t challenge my brother. I glanced at Ava. She wasn t moving. Matt himself didn t actually look ready to go. But neither of them really wanted to lead the way, either. I m always the one who goes first. Fine, I said quietly. I ll go check it out.
Matt reached over to a small worktable and grabbed a hammer. Ava shot him a look. Really? she mouthed.
My brother, who had the muscles of an athlete but the fighting skills of a toddler, deflated like a popped balloon. Hammer or no hammer, he wasn t going to fight anyone. None of us were. He carefully replaced the tool, and we crossed the lab floor as quietly as ninjas.
Now, about this laboratory. It s a little odd. Okay, more than a little. There s a giant water tank for testing submarines and robotic boats and suits that let you stay underwater without air tanks. The glass-encased Mars room is a near-perfect copy of the landscape on the Red Planet. All kinds of vehicles and robots and enough computers to satisfy two classrooms full of kids are scattered around the place. And that s just the ground floor. Each of the platforms that wind up toward the ceiling supports its own miniature lab. The biosphere used to be on the fourth platform, but Hank redesigned it and moved it up a few floors.
The first time Hank let us into his lab, I had no idea how he got from one platform to the next. The giant catapult capable of launching department store mannequins fifty feet in the air suggested he had some exciting plans, but he developed a much easier way up. And the rope dangling from the biosphere s platform suggested that the intruder hadn t found it.
Ava grabbed the rope and gave it a gentle tug. At least he didn t use Betsy, she said.
Betsy wasn t a kid. Or a pet. My sister liked to name her inventions, and Betsy was a motorized device, about the size of a blender, that let you fire a long cable up to rooftops or balconies and then whisked you right up like Batman. Don t tell her I said that, though, because she hates superheroes. And look, Betsy was amazing. Totally. Even if I had sprained my finger trying to use her the week before. But this wasn t the time for Betsy. We needed to be quiet. And safe.
I d rather go the normal way, I said.
Ava flicked a red rubber toggle switch hidden behind a painting of a lighthouse. Two dozen metal steps popped out of the wall with a faint whoosh . They weren t connected to each other, only to the wall, and there was no railing, either. Hank had covered each one with a thin square of rubber after Matt had tripped and banged his knees on the metal edges about a dozen times. Naturally, for this reason, I called the squares Matts. Ava liked the joke. My brother? Not so much.
We hurried up the Matts, and I stopped at the first platform to listen. Whoever was up there in the biosphere wasn t trying very hard to be quiet. Once or twice he shouted another curse . . . but I couldn t quite understand the swear. I flicked the switch for the stairs to the next platform, and we kept moving quietly and carefully, winding clockwise around the interior walls as we ascended. Each platform had its own focus. One was all about growing and harvesting cells. The second was a robotics workshop. Then there was a clean room for experiments that couldn t be contaminated with all the miniature bugs and microbes that crawl around the normal world, a tiny greenhouse, a 3-D printing shop, and, finally, the biosphere.
We stopped on the platform below, outside the 3-D printing room. On the wall next to me was a painful reminder of one of the geniuses most successful pranks. There was a hook and a hanger and a sign above them that read Invisibility Cloak. I m too ashamed to explain. But the supposed cloak wasn t there, anyway, so we ll move on.
Something splashed in the room above. If either my brother or my sister had suddenly decided this whole strategy was a bad idea, and that we should turn back and call for help, I wouldn t have protested. But no one was ready to run, so I reached out and flipped the switch. We waited as the steps whooshed out of the walls, then crept up.
The intruder muttered. Then he began to hum a tune. A pop song. I turned back to my siblings and pointed to one of my ears, hoping they might recognize it. But this was pointless. Neither of them listened to real music. Matt only liked the symphonies of old dead guys, and Ava once told me th